


Think of All the Roads

by flannelfeelings



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Amy Santiago Loves Jake Peralta, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt Jake Peralta, Hurt/Comfort, Jake Peralta Loves Amy Santiago, Loving Marriage, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Parents Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Pregnant Amy Santiago, Prison Memories, Protective Amy Santiago, Recovery, References to prison, Violence, mature content, s7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25416748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flannelfeelings/pseuds/flannelfeelings
Summary: Sometimes, the nights are still hard.
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 11
Kudos: 167





	Think of All the Roads

**Author's Note:**

> OK not 100% sure what this is but it is a MESS of FEELINGS  
> I get that b99 is a sitcom so I won't critique it for this, but I wish we could have seen more of Jake recovering from prison. The shit he saw wasn't something you just get over, & he is a really compassionate person so I just feel like it would stick with him forever. Here's a little exploration of what that might look like a few years after getting out  
> Unebta'd and mentions of suicide, violence, general prison things so be warned!
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Please let me know your thoughts!

The feeling of the cement against his cheek was the first clue that Jake was dreaming.

Other than the very real, visceral crunch of his ribs beneath a steel-toed boot, and the coppery sour taste of blood in his mouth, there were no sensations. Pain was predominant- in his head, in his body, all the way down to his feet and all the way up to his brain. As the guard beat him over the head once more and Jake finally allowed his body to give up resistance, the tension all but melting from his limbs as he lay limp on the prison floor and submitted to the foot cracking against his stomach, most of the feelings washed away.

If he thought too much, his mind would go to much nicer places. His mind would go to Amy’s and his apartment, the soft smell of lavender from her candles, the orange hue of the little lamps she had strung above the bed. His mind would go to her crinkly nose when she laughed at a stupid pun, or the focus in her big brown eyes whenever she was stumped on a crossword (which wasn’t often.) His mind would go to the way she touched him, the way she made him feel like the only man on Earth.

So he didn’t think. He turned off his brain, turned off his body and let the guard kick his ass.

If he wanted to get into Romero’s crew and try to prevent himself from a brutal stabbing, this needed to happen. Just another aspect of being in prison. He told himself it was all just a part of his life now. It was all part of being another beige jumpsuit.

The beatings, the rapes, the suicides, the stabbings, it was all just a part of life now. The orange lamps, the crinkly nose, the pealing bells of laughter and soft hands of his girlfriend, that was all a million miles away.

In those cold, agonizing moments on the prison floor, Jake didn’t know if he would ever truly feel safe again.

A familiar panic began to tighten his chest as he watched the guard’s boots retreat down the hall, leaving him alone in the empty room. The cold seemed to envelope his trembling, injured limbs.

He’d been hurt on the job before, a couple bruised ribs, a concussion, sometimes even broken fingers and toes. He’d never been beaten to a pulp like this. He’d never given up control of his body the way he did in here.

“Jake?”

Someone was saying his name, he realized. He struggled to push himself up on his arms, feeling nausea bubble up in the back of his throat as each movement sent pain cascading across his damaged body. He looked around with dizzy eyes, trying to find whoever was calling for him.

“Jake? Wake up.” Jake blinked hard, the motion sent him flying back to the ground and into darkness. After a moment, his eyes reopened and he let out a gasp. The whirling ceiling fan above him came into view. The honking of cars outside infiltrated his ears. The warmth of a body beside him was overwhelming, and gentle hands were stroking smooth lines down his arm.

“Jake?” Amy’s voice was a hushed whisper, “Honey?”

Jake lurched sideways, scrambling across the room to grab the trash bin. He curled around it and vomited noisily, sweat clamming up his forehead as reality crashed back around his shoulders.

His arms moved with no issue, his mouth, though currently full of puke, wasn’t injured at all. His head was swimming, but not due to a baton. While his chest ached with wheezes, it hadn’t been pummeled by a boot.

He was in their bedroom. His wife was at his side now, gently shushing his groans as she rubbed his damp back. One hand still clutched around the trash can, Jake reached another arm out toward Amy, who wrapped her fingers around his trembling hand and squeezed hard.

Since first coming home, this was a ritual they’d developed. Everytime the memories became too much, every time Jake was pulled back underneath the black waves of trauma that prison had inflicted on him, Amy was right there. Amy would grab him and squeeze him so tightly that it hurt, but it anchored him. He was here. She was with him.

Jake spit out the last bit of bile from his throat and leaned back, swallowing hard and struggling to catch his breath. At a certain point, he may have shied away, told her not to look at him like this. He was ashamed. But three years later, even though most of the time he was okay, sometimes he fell apart. And Amy had never left his side. He knew she wouldn’t start now. They’d been through way too much together.

Amy scooched closer on her butt and handed him the water bottle from her nightstand. Her movements were gentle, slow as if she was afraid to startle him. With shaking hands, Jake took the bottle from her and took a few sips, water spilling down his chin messily as he did so.

“Thanks.” he murmured in an almost unintelligible voice. Amy moved closer until she was sitting behind him with her thighs wrapped around his waist. He leaned back against her chest, closing his eyes against the feeling of her soft hands rubbing soothing circles across his chest and stomach. He could hear her steady heartbeat against his head, and the curve of her belly underneath him brought him back to Earth.

“I didn’t mean to wake you two up.” Jake murmured quietly, turning to nuzzle his face into her neck and rest one of his hands over the crest of her swollen stomach. At 6 months in, Amy was starting to really look pregnant, and he knew she was feeling it too. He felt incredibly guilty for interrupting any much-needed sleep, “I’m sorry.”

Amy leaned down to press a silent kiss into his sweaty hair, “No apologies.” she hesitated briefly, then asked, “I take it that was a bad one?”

Jake swallowed hard, watching the rise and fall of her chest beneath her t-shirt as he struggled to find the right words. At first, he would never tell her about the dreams. He didn’t want to tell her anything about prison. He didn’t want her to know how broken he really was.

But she worked her way in there, and it shouldn't have surprised him. Amy didn’t often fail when she set her mind to something.

At a certain point, after so many nights waking up screaming or sobbing or puking, he owed her some sort of explanation. After three years, she sort of knew all there was to know. Though, that didn’t mean he was immune to the past.

“Just about Wilson.” he murmured, eyes combing down her body to settle on her stomach. He wondered what their unborn baby would think; seeing his dad in such a pathetic state.

Amy knew the Wilson story well. She grimaced and pulled Jake a little tighter against her body, “What did it, do you think?”

She was asking what had triggered the dream. Sometimes, it was nothing. Sometimes in the darkness of their bedroom, or in the break room of the precinct, or even at his Mom’s house after Thanksgiving, Jake would fall asleep and slip right back behind bars.

But sometimes, _something_ caused it. His first visit to a prison to interview a suspect after getting out, hearing a loud crack of thunder on a dark night that reminded him of the slamming of cell doors, watching a movie where someone hung themselves, like he’d seen so many real people do.

“Not sure.” he admitted quietly, “Could be the two perps I pulled apart in holding today. They looked afraid of me.” he shuddered, “I had to excuse myself and let Charles handle their fighting. I couldn’t stand the way they tensed up when I walked into the holding cell. Like they thought I was just like Wilson.”

Amy’s fingers carded through his hair slowly, and he leaned into the touch, eyes closing again as he let out a low breath. His heartbeat was starting to even out and the twisted knot in his stomach was somewhat untangled now as he sat in Amy’s arms.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered, knowing that nothing else would make any difference.

“Don’t be.” Jake murmured, “You saved me. I’m home. I’m alright.”

“You’re home.” Amy echoed, “You’re never leaving again.”

The truth was, Amy couldn’t guarantee that. Jake could be shot by a perp, or taken out by another cop, or hit by a bus, or fall down a sewer drain, or get framed again and be sent back. There was nothing to tether him to this life, as he’d learned three years ago. It didn’t matter what he did, or who he helped, sometimes bad shit just happens.

But he still had to fight every day. Each moment with Amy was worth it. Each smile on her face, and the crinkle of her nose got him through when things really started to get bad.

But lately, things were really, really good. He was going to be a _father._ It was hard to let yourself be sucked into the darkness when you had such a light to look forward to.

“Do you think this will ever stop?” Jake asked her in a tiny voice, “Do you think...do you think our son will ever have to see me like this?”

Truthfully, he could hardly stomach that thought. Jake very much wanted to be the opposite of his own father; he wanted to be a good dad. Impeccable, reliable, someone his son could look up to. Not a damaged, broken, imperfect guy who still hadn’t figured it out.

“I don’t know, Jake.” Amy told him, resting her face in his hair as she spoke earnestly, “But what I do know, is he’s going to love you so much. Maybe even as much as I do.” she poked his cheek teasingly, “And you are going to be an amazing Dad.”

Jake scoffed quietly, shaking his head, “I just threw myself out of bed to barf because of a bad dream.”

“Hey.” Amy’s tone brokered no room for argument, “Being a good parent isn’t about being perfect. It’s about loving and protecting your kid, and no one on this planet could do that better than _you_.” She readjusted so that they were facing each other, and reached out to cup his face in her palm, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“You’ve been through so much.” Amy shook her head gently, eyes softening as she looked at Jake’s broken expression, “You are the strongest man I know, Jake. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have someone like you to father our baby.”

Amy’s hand came out and took Jake’s pulling it over until it rested on her belly. After a brief moment, Jake could feel little movements shoving against his palm, and he was unable to help the smile that began to spread across his cheeks. He brought his other hand around to rest on either side of her stomach, laughing a bit breathlessly as their baby made his presence known. Those little bumps against his hands had never felt so amazing.

“See?” Amy smiled, “He loves you already.”

Hands still resting on her middle, Jake met Amy’s eyes, and he felt his brows pulling down as he was overwhelmed with love for her. He didn’t know how he’d gotten lucky enough to have her in his life, married to him, carrying his baby. If it weren’t for her, Jake isn’t sure where he’d be right now. Or if he’d even still be here.

“I-” his voice broke a bit as he blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay, “I owe everything to you, Ames. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you so much.” Amy crawled over until she was plopped in his lap, smirking, “Am I too heavy?”

“Never.” Jake wrapped his arms around her body and pressed her as close as he could with her distended belly between them.

She buried her face in his hair and he squeezed her a little tighter. He never wanted to leave this moment. Sitting there on the floor, his wife and unborn baby safe in his arms, her soft breathing in his ear as he pressed their bodies together. Even the faint whiff of puke in the air couldn’t ruin this. This was what he fought for, every single day. This is why he forced himself not to let the darkness drag him down.

He had so much to live for. He had _everything._

Amy shifted uncomfortably in his lap, which brought him out of his trance.

He pulled back to look at her worriedly, “You okay?”

She nodded, “Just my back.”

“Let’s get you off the floor.” Jake untangled their limbs and stood. He leaned down and grasped her arms, pulling her to her feet gradually. She wobbled a little, but he held on tight until she was steady.

“I’m sorry again.” He told her.

Amy pulled him against her for a tight hug, squeezing the absolute life out of him, “Stop being sorry. I love you, and I’m here for you. You’re safe. You’re home.”

“Yes.” He said against the warm skin of her neck, wishing he could stay here forever, “I’m safe. I’m home.”

“Do you feel like going back to sleep?” Amy asked as they separated, and she glanced at the bedside clock.

They both had to be up for work in less than four hours, and she was already running on empty. He tried not to feel even more guilty when he noticed the dark purple bags beneath her eyes.

“Yes.” He said, though he wasn’t really sure if he was ready, “Let me just get rid of the barf.” he pointed purposefully at the trash can.

“I can take it-” Amy started to offer, but Jake quickly cut her off by swooping forward and plucking the trash can up in his hands.

“Don’t even finish that offer.” he shook his head with a small smile, “You’re too good to even be standing in the same room as me, Amy.”

“Nonsense.” Amy argued, patting her belly with a smile, “We’re both lucky to have you.”

“I’ll be right back.” he said, “Go lay down babe.”

He headed out of the bedroom, footsteps padding down the wood floor of the hall until he reached the bathroom. He tied up the trash bag and set the can in the tub to rinse. After a quick run out to the dumpster to toss the soiled bag, Jake headed back into the apartment, shivering at the bite of cold outside.

Once he was back inside, he noticed a hue of light coming from their bedroom. Confused, he started back down the hall and entered to see Amy curled up on the bed, watching something on TV. He glanced sideways and saw an old rerun of _TMNT._

Jake’s heart swelled as he glanced back at his wife, who was patiently trying to follow along with the plot. The turtles on screen were in the middle of a heated battle, but Jake had seen this one. They won of course, and would soon return to the sewer for pizza.

“Come lay down.” Amy patted the space beside her on the bed.

Jake closed the distance and crawled into bed, relaxing his body as Amy wrapped her arms around him and got as close as she could to spooning him with her large belly between them.

“This will be easier when I’m not a beached whale.” she murmured against his shoulder.

Jake chuckled but shook his head disapprovingly, “Don’t talk about my wife like that. She’s beautiful, and incredible.”

Amy kissed the back of his neck warmly, and Jake sighted in contentment, settling into her embrace.

Her body was warm, and exactly the opposite of the prison floor. Her tone was soft and soothing, completely contradictory to the way Wilson growled and shouted at him. Her hands were gentle and caring, rather than harsh and angry. One thing remained the same though. As he lay against Amy, Jake let go of his tension and allowed his body to go limp.

Only this time, when he relinquished control, it was because he felt truly and completely safe.


End file.
